Stalker: Destined Reanimation
by TheVoidance
Summary: A story I wrote a while ago, I don't know if I'll continue it. As of a few years ago the company that was working on Stalker had lost the copyrights unfortunately because they were hired by a different company. They're currently working on Survarium. I will never give up my support for the "Stalker" series.


So What's Next? (Title will change)

By: Drew Featherstone

Typical Disclaimer: I do not own any of this shit and all rights are reserved to their respective owners. Now read the damn story already.

Note: This story takes place inside a place called the Zone, it's based around real events except for the anomalies, mutants, stalkers ect but the games portray actual buildings within the Exclusion Zone itself in real life. You need a permit and permission from the government to actually get inside on a tour bus.

Two Score and Seven Years Ago... Chapter 1

You know? Before I even knew what Chernobyl was, it seemed like only yesterday I was back at home. Out here on this gray warped frontier... you don't even get to see the sun most days let alone feel the natural wind on your face but other than that you can welcome yourself to hell. When I first got here even with an escort I was still scared shitless, I guess that was the one thing that's never changed about me or anyone on my side for that matter. I originally bought passage to this place because I heard about the strange phenomenon about how reality was distorted and shifted throughout the years but of course I suckered myself into it. They gave me some basic gear, leather jacket suit, PP9mm pistol with a few cartridges of ammo, some rations and that was it really.

Being the clueless moron that I was I bought up some work to earn a living and basic stay in a small room, my main job everyday for the first month I was there was scouting for any activity of hostilities. I didn't know what an "anomaly" was or what any of the mutations looked like, all I had heard was that they attacked in groups and often killed any unprepared loners, not that it mattered since it was all fair game at the time. They sent patrols out in teams of three to five most times unless the place suffered from a recent attack then the patrols were reduced to two man tag teams to cover more ground. I ended up getting hired by this man that called himself "Sleep Tight" but most people called him Snitch.

On my first three days I was toured around by a man named Marks. Marks only thought me the basics about surviving, plants, radiation types, protections against anomalies, weapons and ammo, pistol training, ect. The way he moved through the guidance was painless but It wasn't easy for someone like me with no formal training of handling a weapon; hell the first time I pulled the trigger on my PP9mm it pulled back so far it clocked me right in the nose. Alright that's a bit of a stretch but let's just say I didn't even hit the stationary target for about a good 10 minutes. Where they got all the spare ammo I have no fucking idea but let me tell you something, if you pull out your pistol to someone then you'd end up more incomplete than a bitches sandwich. (Because bitches love sandwiches.(JUST KIDDING.)

I only made around 750 rubles a day which was cut by my room and boarding being 350 a day, and plus I needed to eat so I only made around 50 rubles a day for at least a month. In my first month of patrols I was stationed with a guy named Ernestine but the first day I called him that was the first day I walked away with a blood dripping nose so I just called him Edd for short but I ended up with a broken nose after that.

"Well if I can't call him his real name or Edd then what the fuck do I address him by?" I said sounding like a person who had the flu.

The medical 'doctor' only replied "Alcohol and a large days worth of sweating isn't exactly what you'd call a good tempered man, you agree no?"

The doctor had a point, a lot of the men here were liquored up but they still maintained twenty twenty hindsight which just didn't click in my head as natural. "How long till' do you think this'll heal?" I said desperately needing to itch my nose

"Probably about a month, two if you get whaloped again." The cigarette was burned through in a few inhales and discarded in a nearby garbage pile.

I walked out of the tent and put my mask up on my face again before I walked to join my patrol partner once more. As I trudged over the next few hills I saw him stationed at the lookout pit.

I flopped my bag beside his at the back end of the pit and joined him scanning the horizon.

A good few hours into the sore ass competition of the day something broke the silence.

"Ppppphyerrrrtttt!" Cried my cheeks as they let out a loud and deadly one.

Ernestine turned to me and made a face, but he solemnly turned back to his binoculars and scanned the distant shrubbery. My job is to usually keep track of any mutant activity and where the anomalies are.

That afternoon was fairly uneventful except for the occasional pack of feral dogs but they knew enough to stay away from humans until they were alone. We had a dog that would every once in a while go into the town and enjoy the company of humans, we could tell the dog was an outcast because it was unnaturally tame for a wild animal which probably caused it to become a "defect" to the pack it used to be with.

Sometime between 3-5:30 pm Ernestine spotted three o' clock position from where we we're facing, we both hit the ground as we studied the unwanted guest.

Ernestine opened the channel to the camp "Camp this is Patrol 12 o' clock, we've sighted a man wearing a possible Mercenary standard issue armor with what appears to either be an SGI or AKM in the holster. I'm unable to give facial features because of the face mask." Ernestine unloaded the magazine and made a note of the bullet count.

I popped over the side of the pit aimed and crouched and yelled, "State your business!"

The man only dropped into an army crawl and unholstered his weapon and open fired.

Ernestine pulled my ass down as soon as he heard the machinegun fire. "Get down!" And right as he pulled me down a bullet clipped the top of my hood.

Ernest just looked at me and said, "And that's why you don't trust Mercenaries." then popped a couple caps over the side of the pit. "Keep your head down until a group arrives to back us up, we're not equipped for this."

Ernest started to radio in for backup while I kept the Stalker busy. Instead of blind firing I decided to actually aim, we traded fire for what felt like twenty minutes. I could only pop off one shot at a time before a couple rounds of bursts shot overhead and forced me to take cover. After a brief couple minutes It sounded like metal hitting metal, "Did you hear that?"

Ernest popped over for a quick second to find the enemy not aiming but dislodging a bullet from his hand. He started to empty his clip at the Mercenary and I proceeded to do the same; another bullet grazed his arm and two ricocheted off of his assault rifle.

The Mercenary proceeded to pull out a pistol and return fire but he soon ran out of bullets and tried to flee, at that moment me and Ernest shot him successfully in the back and right leg. I didn't know if any of my shots had hit the intruder that day, but that was enough action for a while.

The backup Stalkers had just arrived in a four man team but their brows furrowed into disappointment when they saw there was only one intruder in sight. The other three proceeded to scout out more of the area while one of them approached us.

Ernest walked up and greeted the man, "So Ernest, one Stalker was your problem?"

Ernest holstered his pistol and spoke "Easy for you to say, we were pinned down for a good majority by a machine gun. We only managed to kill him because rookie here got a lucky shot on the guy's hand."

"Sir" called out a stalker searching the dead body "The deceased has in his possession a G17, AKM 74/U, a PDA and a small amount of rubles, actions specified?" he paused briefly

The squad leader turned and only spoke "Take the PDA and give it to Sidorovich, split the rubles amongst yourselves and leave the rest for the taking to the patrols." He turned to me and asked "Rookie I don't believe we've met before, I'm Wolf, I'm a veteran in this part of the Zone. What's your name rookie?"

"It's Drew." I pipped out "I joined about two and a half weeks ago."

"So Drew," he mumbled "How'd you pull off a shot like that?" he said motioning towards the body

"Which shot?" I replied

"The one on the hand, Not many people can pull that kind of shit."

I froze not knowing what to think, I wasn't even sure I even landed a hit but "Sir, how would you know that I even shot him?"

"You're stationed on the right side right?"

"Right." I replied

"Well I know because the bullet is higher up on his right hand and not lower, lower would signify that Ernest hit him." He pulled out a cigarette and lit it. He offered one to the both of us, Ernest took one but I turned down his offer. "Surprised you haven't turned to smokin' yet kid, most of the Stalkers on their first week here can't stand the pressure so they begin to drink and smoke."

To be honest the pressure just all around made me want to puke my guts out, and with the gun fight earlier I was practically shitting myself! I don't know how these people can stand any of this. Honestly by the end of the first week I found myself wanting to go home, I was tired, was treated like shit even though I expected it, I was hungry because I hardly ate a thing since I got here, worst of all It smelled of cigarette smoke and alcohol everywhere around the camp except for the fire pit, it just smelled of charred meat and alcohol there.

Wolf signaled with his hand to the rest of the Stalkers to head back to camp "Do what you will with the rest of the loot, we're heading back to camp." he said as his voice trailed off into the distance

I turned to Ernest as soon as he was done with his cigarette and asked "So if I can't call you by your name, what would you rather have me call you?" I asked not dropping the subject

Ernest just sighed and said "Call me Hayne." He took out another cigarette and lit it.

I walked over to the body and picked up the AKM, there seemed to be about a clip and a half left of bullets left on the guy. "Look at this!" I yelled holding up the Akm which only was rewarded by a glance followed by a "Sell it."

I looked up and saw a break in the clouds, the sun appeared to be near sunset. "I'll collect what I can and we'll split it!" I yelled back

A smile cracked on Haynes face, probably thinking of having a drink or two at the bar.

As the night patrol for our area came over the hill me and Hayne both gathered up our shit and trudged back to camp.

The walk was fairly silent except for the barking of a few blind dogs and a couple electric anomalies everything was the eerie quiet it had been. Just then Hayne said with a half cynical attitude "At least you didn't get your head blown off like the last three rookies I was paired with."

My eyes sank to my feet, I had never felt more of a fear of dying than this day had brought. I looked up at the sky and figured if a meaning of life was more precious to me now than before then I would need to fight for it to stay alive long enough to get to it. "So Hayne, what are you going to do with your share?" I was curious as to what he had planned

Hayne paused but finally said "Maybe just add to my savings so I can finally get a double barrel and get enough rounds to blast my way north to work for the Duty faction north of here." He flicked his cigarette, stepped on it and continued walking.


End file.
